Chapter 4 #2
Was he destined to say every wrong thing to this woman?
Why did she make him so tense as to be insensible?
If he was not careful, she might draw back from Georgiana to avoid her tactless brother.
“Forgive me. Of course, as a woman of intelligence and feeling, you must also consider romantic considerations. What manner of husband do you want, even if you do not find him at a watering place?”
“Do you want a genuine answer, as I might give to a friend who was truly interested, or do you want the indifferent, polite reply I would give a matron in a drawing room?”
“I always want to hear the truth.” For some reason, he waited for her answer in a breathless state of palpitation.
“I want to not be neglected or left destitute. I want a husband who will not arbitrarily or tyrannically exercise his absolute power over me. I would like frequent displays of never-failing tenderness. He will probably need some forbearance too, for I am stubborn and lively.”
She meant to affront him with her honesty, but how could such a sweet and arch woman affront anyone?
“Will you honour me with your hand for the next two dances?”
“I beg your pardon?”
The impulsive request was unlike him, but he sincerely wanted to dance with her. “Behind you, I see Mr le Bas, the master of ceremonies. He will come round in a moment and press me to ask a stranger to dance, and I would rather continue talking with you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I think you instead ought to ask a lady sitting down if she would like to dance. It would be more gentlemanly.”
Did she think him ungentlemanly? He did not want to ask a woman slighted by other men; he wanted to talk more with Elizabeth. He was about to press her again when she added, “Imagine it was your sister who was at a ball and longing just for a chance to dance.”
Georgiana sat with Mrs Younge, eagerly watching the activity, and he felt a pang of regret in prohibiting her from dancing.
If Wickham was gone from Ramsgate by Thursday’s assembly, he would permit her to dance if he knew her partner.
“Shall we compromise? I see Lady Glenville’s daughter sitting down.
I will ask her to dance the next when you and I have finished our set. ”
Elizabeth looked at his outstretched hand for a lengthy moment, then smiled and took it.
He did not care for how swiftly his heart beat in answer.
He was averse to a match unequal to his own rank and fortune.
Although, neither mattered as much as did her embarrassing relations.
He noticed her sisters actually chasing a man round the edges of the room, with the master of ceremonies in pursuit, a disapproving look on his face.
It was alarmingly easy to forget her family’s behaviour when Elizabeth smiled at him, teased him, or spoke intelligently with him. But he could not sacrifice duty or prudence, after all.
Elizabeth took her place in the set, alternately irritated she was asked only as the least objectionable of Darcy’s options, and glad that he preferred to dance with her. No woman wanted to be slighted at a ball.
“You are unduly silent,” he said after the dance began. “Is your silence to last through the two dances? I had hoped we would speak more.”
“I was deciding if you are worth the trouble to speak to. I suppose since you frightened away my other dance partners, I should be glad for the chance to dance, but I dislike being your excuse to avoid dancing with a stranger.”
“Why do you assume I would not have asked you to dance, anyway?”
“Because you seem a proud man, Mr Darcy, and above being pleased. And you do not think I am worthy of being friends with your sister.”
“You are mistaken. You are a good friend to my sister. My primary objection is the want of propriety displayed by your sisters and mother. Who could object to you?”
She was about to challenge him, but decided against it. There was no need to be provoking, especially when she knew he was right. Darcy was proud, but not so much that she could not enjoy a dance and some conversation.
“Besides,” he went on, “you were telling me what sort of husband you needed.”
She had not expected him to resume the subject. He seemed the sort to either stay silent or only want to speak on serious subjects. “You must not dance often. Lighthearted, polite talk is the preferred subject for dances and—”
“Is immediately forgotten,” he interrupted. “If I am to talk while dancing, you may as well make it something of note. What sort of competency does your future husband require?”
“Wealth?” she repeated, surprised. “What a way to begin.”
“In my circles, that is the critical point.”
If he wanted genuine answers, she would give them.
He probably assumed she would say the income she needed.
Georgiana had said her brother had ten thousand a year, and that might make him appealing to some types of women.
“I need not be the gainer in the bargain, but I have only one thousand on the death of my parents, so we must have something to live on.”
“You do not need a high life?” he asked. She could not tell if he sounded dubious or if it was his usual serious mien.
“Decking myself out with jewels and lace, inhabiting splendid apartments, rolling in handsome carriages, repairing to London and other fashionable scenes of resort? No. I want a man of character, neither covetous nor proud,” she added, although he did not seem to take her hint.
They were again silent until they had gone down the dance when he asked in a low voice, “And presumably not a man notoriously and scandalously addicted to vice?” His eyes directed at her with a serious expression.
Elizabeth drew in a breath. What had Wickham done that insulted Darcy’s sense of honour?
And did he think she admired Wickham, or was he still only concerned for Lydia’s sake?
“I have no designs on anyone like that,” she said carefully to hint she did not favour Wickham. “I could not love such a man.”
His features relaxed, and he gave her a slight nod. “But you seem the sort to love deeply.”
“How could you know me well enough to make such a claim?”
“You came to a place you did not want to visit to care for your ill sister, and to restrain both of them as best you can with no parental support. I hope you find someone worthy of that affection.”
Elizabeth blushed at his gallantry, but said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence.
She suspected he would repair to the card room or find his sister, but as he promised, he sought Lady Glenville’s daughter and asked her for the next set.
Her face was awash in happiness that made her look much younger and more cheerful.
Despite his pride, she enjoyed the society of an intelligent man.
Darcy had lofty manners, but she supposed it fitting for someone of high birth, even if he seemed too proud of it.
It might be his greatest fault, for otherwise Darcy was immensely rich, handsome, and what the world called accomplished, to whom every society was open.
As rude as he had been, she still liked the earnest conversations they had.
While returning to her mother, who was sitting by the fire amid a group of indifferent chaperones enlivened by spirits, Elizabeth looked for her friends and sisters.
She noticed Georgiana near to the door. Mrs Younge stood in front of her, blocking some of her view.
But she saw Georgiana standing close to Wickham in deep conversation.
He then took hold of her hand, pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it, and then went through the door.
Georgiana pressed her hand to her chest and fell into her seat with a sigh, and Elizabeth turned away.
It was a good thing Darcy was dancing and Mrs Younge was standing where she was, otherwise he would have noticed and caused a disagreeable scene.
Wickham was now gone, and there was no harm done.
She would let Georgiana have her moment of enjoying a man’s attentiveness, especially since, given his flirtatious nature, he meant nothing real by one parting kiss.
Twelve o’clock struck far too soon for the Bennets’ liking, and the master of ceremonies silenced the players in the middle of a reel. But Lydia was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the assembly rooms under the delightful persuasion that Wickham would make his addresses in the morning.
Elizabeth was glad Darcy had already left with his sister and Mrs Younge and would not hear all of Lydia’s high spirits and Kitty’s jealous sulking.
Although she doubted Wickham would confess an undying affection for her youngest sister, Elizabeth wondered why he came to the assembly only to dance with Lydia and then leave.
He must have known he would encounter Darcy, and it was plain Darcy had been tempted to cut Wickham on sight.
Was it worth it for one dance? Was he trifling with Lydia, or did he love her?
If there was any affection there, she would have to press Darcy for details about Wickham’s alleged offences.
Her mother and father would never enquire, so it would be up to her.
“Lizzy, my love, go wake up Lydia,” her mother said. “It was not a late night, and we want to eat breakfast.”
Elizabeth had been writing about the previous evening in her journal.
Sometimes recording her thoughts felt like the only way to arrange her own mind in a house full of people who did not understand her.
They loved her, of course, but they did not always comprehend her.
Who else was she to talk through all of her views of the world and all of her expectations?
“I am almost finished,” she said without looking up. “Lydia might be tired from all of her dancing.”
“Wickham insisted on dancing with her first,” said Kitty. “It was so romantic. I wish I had a man seek me out like that.”
“He is a delightful man,” her mother agreed. “So handsome. Lizzy, stop writing and go wake her up.”